


one-up

by kindlingchild



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Language Barrier, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 14:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16683778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindlingchild/pseuds/kindlingchild
Summary: "Ma vhenan— what's that mean?"Vayeril smiled, and Dorian groaned. Vayeril's smile only spoke of a challenge and determination to be undefeated. But Dorian was even more determined to win."Ar lath ma, vhenan," he said, as he walked away.Dorian was going to find out what that meant if it was the last thing he did.





	one-up

**Author's Note:**

> ddddRAGON AGEEEE
> 
> i hope u all like my dumb elf he's too kind and too sassy
> 
> his name is vayeril lavellan and he's very pretty thank u for coming to my ted talk
> 
> enjoy!!

“Ma vhenan— what does that mean?” Dorian gazed up curiously, narrowing his eyes at the elf in front of him, who donned a sleek blue shirt and black pants. Hair a colour not quite golden, but not quite brown either. Dorian considered it the one feature he had been beaten in by the elf in question.

“Where did you read that?” Vayeril turned his head, green eyes sparkling in contrast to the dimly lit room. He placed the book he was holding back on the shelf, walking over to the table and examining the book laid out before Dorian.

“Researching elven phrases, are you? Trying to impress me, Dorian?” Vayeril smirked, snatching the book with one swift motion and shutting it with one hand, the sound of it snapping shut echoing through the room.

“Why would I need to impress you when I’ve already captured you with my wit and charm? I don’t need to impress anyone, my mere presence stuns everyone who feels it,” Dorian smiled, running a hand through his hair as he stood straight, crossing his arms and watching as Vayeril laughed softly while skimming through the books on the shelf.

“You’ll find out in due time,” Vayeril smiled softly as he turned his head to look at Dorian, but the Tevinter mage had come to recognise the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Dorian adored his eyes. Green, but not quite. Yellow on the outside with blue tints on the inside. Kind and soft, but serious and focused when they needed to be. They were so full of hope and determination. Hope and determination that Dorian had fallen head over heels for.

“Are you challenging me, Inquisitor?” Dorian stroked his moustache, unable to mask the smile growing across his face, “Because I’ll take up your challenge, Herald.”

“Take whatever you wish to make of it,” Vayeril walked over to him and wrapped his hand around the back of Dorian’s head, pulling his close and pressing a soft kiss to the mage’s forehead. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

He walked away slowly, and Dorian could only stare in awe.

 

* * *

 

“Solas! Good day.” Dorian jogged over to his fellow mage, and the elf turned with an eyebrow raised. “Could you spare sometime for a fellow mage?”

“Dorian? What brings you here?” Solas asked, gently shutting the book in his hands.

“Just a quick question, won’t take up too much of your time— though I do love taking up people’s time.” Dorian folded his arms, “What does ‘vhenan’ mean? Specifically the phrase— if I remember correctly— ‘Ar lath ma, vhenan?’”

Solas’ eyes widened for a second, before a small smile spread across his face. His smiles were always gentle, but Dorian knew gentle smiles tended to be the most dangerous (Vayeril’s was a different kind of gentle; almost naïve, really).

“I suppose the Inquisitor was teasing you for your lack of knowledge of the elven language?”

“Teasing? Was he making fun of me? How dare he!” Dorian huffed, shaking his head, “What does it mean?”

“If the Inquisitor said it, I suppose I am unable to define the phrase to you without his permission. Apologies, Dorian,” Solas shrugged lightly, returning to his reading.

“Oh you elves and your cunning little minds. I’ll find out what it means if it’s the last thing I do!” Dorian grumbled as he left the room, leaving Solas alone in his study.

The elf laughed warmly as he read.

_ What a thing it is; to be in love. _

 

* * *

 

“The Tevinter coming to  _ me _ for help? And here I thought the end of the world was near! Turns out, it’s happening right now!” Sera laughed, snorting loudly as she did, “Alright, out with it. What’dya want?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. He had been hesitant about coming to see her, let alone ask her for help, but he was desperate to win Vayeril— not that he’d ever admit that, of course.

“Do you know elven?”

Sera’s face immediately fell into a scowl, and she shrugged stiffly.

“A bit, I suppose. What, need me to translate something for you? Wouldn’t you be better off asking that bald guy or your boyfriend?” She narrowed her eyes at him, clear discontent written all over her face.

“That’s the thing, see. Despite all my charm, neither of them have helped me with my… dilemma, so to speak.” Dorian fished for gold pieces in his pockets, and managed to pull out about three. He placed them on the table between them, and slid them across to Sera. “I have suspicion Mr Inquisitor is using elven against me, teasing me in his mother tongue so I don’t understand. ‘Vhenan’, in particular.”

Sera paused, eyes widening in a fashion similar to Solas (shock with a hint of amusement), before she burst out laughing— cackling, really.

“Oh, that’s golden! Really, funny innit?” She wiped a tear from her eye, scooping up the gold on the table and sliding it into her pocket.

“What? What of it? What’s it mean?” Dorian stood straight, crossing his arms and huffing. That action seemed to be a frequent occurrence recently.

“I’m sure he’ll tell you when he feels like it,” Sera grinned wickedly, “He’s a sassy bitch, that one. I’m not gonna ruin his fucking fun.”

“I paid you!” Dorian glared at her, slamming his hands lightly on the table.

“Your mistake; I never said what information I’d give.” Sera pressed a finger to his forehead, pushing him back slightly before giggling and walking away.

Dorian grumbled as he left the Gull and Lantern, slamming the door behind him.

“What happened?” The Iron Bull walked up to Sera, briefly glancing at the slammed door behind her. “He seemed angry.”

“Upset, really. I wouldn’t interfere though, small teasing between him and Ril,” Sera giggled, and the Bull sighed and shook his head before leaving.

Sera caught a glimpse of Dorian storming away through the windows of the tavern, and smiled mischievously (fondly, really, but she’d never admit that).

_ Sweet Maker, Lavellan— you’re in love, aren’t you? _

 

* * *

 

“Alright, you win. Out with it, I give up.” Dorian sat down on the couch in Vayeril’s bedroom, slumping in his seat and sinking into the fabric.

“Hm? What’s this? The Dorian Pavus giving up? Perish the thought!” Vayeril smirked as he walked over to Dorian, sitting down beside him. He smoothly intertwined their fingers, cupping Dorian’s cheek with his hand.

Tilting Dorian’s face to face him, Vayeril smiled.

Dorian knew this smile well— it was Vayeril’s unguarded smile. The one he had when they had finished refurbishing Skyhold and he officially welcomed the people of the Inquisition. The one he had when they had their first kiss. The one he had when he told Dorian that they were  _ more _ .

Vayeril never truly hid his whole self. In everything he did, his empathy and kindness shone through. He guided with his brain, yes— but he followed his heart.

Coming from Tevinter, going through what he did, Vayeril was a breath of fresh air to Dorian. No desperate need to be the perfect mage, no need to have the perfect body, and forget the perfect mind. Vayeril had fallen in love with who Dorian really was— he’d made that perfectly clear— and Dorian was eternally grateful.

“You look all soft, what are you thinking about?” Vayeril whispered, running his thumb across Dorian’s cheekbone.

“Me, naturally,” Dorian smirked, and Vayeril merely laughed. He was so soft, so genuine, so  _ real _ — he had given Dorian hope in a world that seemed beyond it.

“Of course, why would you ever be thinking about something else?” Vayeril pressed a light kiss to Dorian’s lips before pulling away, fishing out a small gift box from his pocket. It was white with a light green ribbon tied around it— of course, the ever corny Inquisitor used a ribbon the colour of Dorian’s eyes to tie the box

Dorian undid the ribbon, slowly lifting the lid of the box to reveal a small necklace beneath it.

“I figured I’d add to your… amulet collection,” Vayeril smiled, picking up the necklace and putting it over Dorian’s head. The pendant was mainly onyx with a white crystal in the centre; a circular shape with a silver frame.

“What for? There’s no special occasion, it’s like when you got my amulet—”

“Sweet Maker, you really are a massive ass at receiving gifts, aren’t you?” Vayeril laughed, playfully punching Dorian’s arm as he leaned in to give the mage a soft kiss. “I got it for you because I felt like it. Just take it, vhenan.”

“There! Right! There! I had forgotten for a second, but I refuse to admit defeat just to be left in the dark! Tell me!” Dorian huffed, pulling away and folding his arms, pouting angrily at the elf who sat beside him.

“The amulet seemed to be close to your heart. I wanted to let you know you’re close to mine—” He paused, smiling softly at the Tevinter, eyes growing warm, “Vhenan— my heart.”

Dorian paused.

_ Kaffas. What a sly bastard. _

“Fasta vass, amatus, you complete fucking—”

Vayeril pressed a finger to Dorian’s lips, trying to hold back his laugh.

“What? Upset that someone finally managed to one-up you in your charm game?” Vayeril smirked, “If I got the attention of one of the wittiest and most charming people I’ve ever met, I must have some myself, no?”

“Sure,” Dorian rolled his eyes as his lips involuntarily curled upwards, his smile fond and kind. The thing was— Vayeril always teased him like this. He always made him sound like he was better than Dorian just to get on his nerves— yet Dorian knew he never believed it. Andraste’s Herald or not, Vayeril had always seen himself as equal to others.

But that was exactly it— he  _ wasn’t. _ If Dorian hadn’t been so prideful, he might have even admitted that Vayeril was a better man then himself.

But Vayeril never saw it that way. It was never like it was back home, where status and ranks rule over everything. To Vayeril, it was just him and his friends trying to save the world.

Vayeril  _ was  _ so much better than Dorian. He had far from one-upped him. He was on a whole other level of selflessness, charm, wittiness, and admittedly— handsomeness.

“Yeah, sure, you win this time, amatus,” Dorian groaned, leaning forward and resting his head on Vayeril’s shoulder, shifting closer and wrapping his arms around the elf’s torso, “But I’ll win next time.”

“Sure you will,” Vayeril chuckled, returning the embrace and tracing circles on Dorian’s back. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

“Ar lath ma?” Dorian drew back slightly, noses touching and lips barely inches apart. Vayeril’s breath was warm. It always was. Vayeril, in general was warm.

_ (Dorian used to tease that that was how he survived the blizzard on the mountains after Haven fell— survived purely on his warmth and determination alone. “Very funny,” he’d reply with a smile.) _

“Ar lath ma— I love you.”

And then his lips were filled with warmth.

 

**Author's Note:**

> changed my tumblt handle recently!! it now: kitaguwu
> 
> comments and feedback are appreciated!!
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading :"^)


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